


When They Are Both Full Grown

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Insecurity, Post-Hogwarts, Trust Issues, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Wood comes back to London and falls for Marietta, who doesn't trust Gryffindors and cannot understand why he keeps trying to win her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When They Are Both Full Grown

**Author's Note:**

> Holly and Ivy is never mentioned in the story, but I listened to the carol and all the bits about holly: _The holly and the ivy, When they are both full grown, Of all trees that are in the wood, The holly bears the crown … The holly bears a blossom, As white as lily flow'r … The holly bears a berry, As red as any blood … The holly bears a prickle, As sharp as any thorn, The holly bears a bark, As bitter as the gall…_ Holly with its beauty, prickles, bark and bitterness just screamed Marietta Edgecombe to me and I love the "when they are both full grown" idea and how our childhood failures shouldn't define our lives.

Oliver came back to London after eight years away and promptly ran into the love of his life. Well, she didn't seem to notice, but Oliver was entranced from that first glance. He'd never had any problems catching the eye of women; he was, after all, an international Quidditch star, starting Keeper for Puddlemere United for two years and then for the Czech Republic for five, tall, broad-shouldered, fit as fuck, and known for his passionate intensity. He'd never had any problems … until he met her.

She was stunning. Statuesque with straight shoulders, shockingly pale skin, gorgeous red-gold curls draping down her back, and incredible posture, she radiated strength and confidence. And then she had fixed him with a hard-edged glare, an icy expression freezing her beautiful features in a mask of disdain. She'd stalked off, head held high, curls swaying angelically in stark contrast with her hateful demeanor, and he'd known, in the same instinctive way that he knew which hoop needed defending, that she was the One.

He'd immediately asked around about her, trying to figure out who she was. He very vaguely remembered her from his Hogwarts days, a skinny, curly-haired Ravenclaw a few years behind him. His old friends' responses hadn't been all that encouraging, most lukewarm, a few dripping with contempt, and none very complimentary. Her name was Marietta Edgecombe. She had been a Ravenclaw three years below him. She worked in the Magical Transportation department at the Ministry. She used to have a nasty acne problem and a reputation as a tattle tale. She was quite the ice queen. And she'd obviously done something horrible back in her school days to piss off her schoolmates. Considering their scorn, he understood why she acted the way she did.

But Oliver held fast to the idea that they were destined to be, and he didn't give a damn about who she'd been ten years ago. What was acne and a prissy attitude and a few bad teenage decisions compared to the all-consuming power of finding one's soulmate, after all?

Having spent the last five years living near Prague, Oliver found himself needing to renew his British Apparition license, which he was quite chuffed to find meant he had to visit the Department of Magical Transportation. He purposely failed his Apparition test three times (making sure to splinch unimportant bits like part of an eyebrow or a bit of his thumbnail) so that he could keep seeing her. Her glares became even icier and her expression a bit more confused every time he appeared. He smiled cheerfully at her every time and made sure to compliment her, on a green dress she wore under her work robes or when she wore her the sides of her hair pinned up in a particularly flattering style. He could tell that he'd need to lay groundwork with this one first or he'd get dismissed faster than a disappearing Snitch. He didn't even try to hide his interest in her though, and he could tell that she noticed by the faint rose-colored blush that stained her cheeks whenever he gave her his most charming grin.

Once he finally passed his test (which was simpler than smacking a Bludger if he was honest) he began frequenting the diner across the street from the Ministry, where he'd noted that Marietta went every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for lunch. The first time he'd cheerfully plopped down into the chair across from her, she'd glared, picked up her sandwich, and left. The second time, she'd glared even harder, but stayed seated, though pointedly ignoring him. The third time, she finally broke.

"What on earth are you doing? Why won't you leave me alone?" She demanded, a lovely flush spreading across her high cheekbones and an unfamiliar shadow of vulnerability flickering in her normally icy expression.

"Well, I thought that was rather obvious, actually. I like you. I wanted to get to know you."

"You _like_ me? What kind of game are you playing? Why can't you lot just move on and get over it?" She looked strangely small as her lip quivered just a bit, and it made his heart ache and made him want to draw her into his arms and never let her go.

"Um, sorry, but what are you talking about?" he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

"You're a Gryffindor! You think I don't know that? I remember you from Hogwarts—you were very well known on the Pitch, after all."

He blinked at her, not quite comprehending where this was going. "Yeah … I was in Gryffindor. That was almost ten years ago, though. It's not like I'm still attending House parties or anything."

"But you're a Gryffindor, and all the Gryffindors hate me, they've no qualms about showing that. So is that why you're here? Did they set you up to this? Mock the girl who made one stupid decision when she was sixteen and thought that her mother knew better than a big-headed fifteen year old who kept messing with her best friend's head. I get it. I'll never live it down and I'll never wear a hairstyle that doesn't include bangs for the rest of my life, but I really thought that the blatant mind games and juvenile trickery were at least over." She looked as if she were only holding onto her ice queen persona by a shred, and Oliver just gaped at her, his eyebrows (one still only half grown in from his deliberate splinching) hovering up near his hairline.

"No!" He finally managed, shaking his head furiously. "No, that's not got anything to do with it. I don't give a damn about who you were or what you did back when you were a kid. We all made stupid decisions. It's past. All I know is that when I came back into town and saw you for the first time, I couldn't breathe. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and I am completely mad about you, glares, bangs, and all. I just want a chance to get to know the woman underneath that icy exterior, because from what I've seen so far, I'm quite sure that she's the most fascinating, beautiful, and incredible woman I'll ever encounter, and that I'm pretty sure she'll wind up being the love of my life, if she calms down long enough to get over my galling Gryffindor background, my scruffy hair, my annoying accent, and my inability to take no for an answer. I don't care what anyone else thinks, about most anything really, and most especially not about me or about you. I only care what I think and what _you_ think, Marietta."

Breathing heavily, he gazed intently at her until she met his eyes.

"You really are a grown-up Gryffindor, aren't you," she remarked dryly, lips twitching into a tiny, almost smile. "I guess dinner wouldn't hurt. Pick me up at seven. And bring flowers." With that, Marietta walked away, leaving Oliver, stunned and elated, grinning like a fool who'd won his first Quidditch match, staring after her.  



End file.
